


I: In Memoriam

by ShadowCas



Series: Where Do We Go From Here? (SPN Hiatus Creations 2019) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beta Read, Bunker, Coda, Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Mary, One Shot, Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah, SPN Hiatus Creations 2019, Week 1, implied dean/cas, in memoriam, injuries, memorial, mentions of canonical deaths, mentions of jack, pretty much what you'd expect from the actual show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 23:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19029721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowCas/pseuds/ShadowCas
Summary: Sam, Dean, and Cas are beaten down after their showdown in the graveyard, literally and metaphorically. Dean and Cas can't stop fighting, and Sam can't bring himself to care. They have so little left, and so little to hope for.





	I: In Memoriam

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to sweetness47 for beta-ing.

    With the apocalypse not so much looming as it is  _ actively _ upon them, there hasn’t been much time for the Winchesters to lick their wounds and grieve.

    And the wounds had been deep, metaphorically and literally. Sam himself had gotten out with the most minor injuries of all, which wasn’t saying much. There was a bullet wound to the shoulder, first of all. He had, of course, also gotten a few bumps and bruises along the way that barely registered – the usual. The worst of it (or at least the most painful) had been a long, raw gash from wrist to elbow that had come from a hand-to-hand struggle from the zombie fight in the graveyard, an encounter that they had barely survived.

    Cas especially. Sam had been the first to punch, stab, and kick his way out of the horde, immediately turning back to yank Dean out of the throng with his good arm (pulling a muscle in Dean’s shoulder in the process). Cas, however, had been overpowered early on, after neglecting his own combatants to help cover Sam and Dean. By time the brothers had fought their way out, Cas was still struggling, not much further from the center of the pack from where he had started.

    The brothers had rushed back, cutting their way through zombies as quick as they could to get to him. That’s when Dean had received his second concussion in all too short a time, as a zombie pushed him to the ground and slammed Dean’s makeshift weapon up against his head multiple times. But even concussed, Dean had managed to kick the creature off of him before quickly crawling through the masses towards Cas.

    Cas was swarmed by time they got to him, with zombies hanging off every appendage and piled on his back. Dean was quick to dispatch the zombie wrapped around Cas’s midsection, and Sam caught up in time to help Dean pull the rest of the zombies from Cas’s front. Cas was covered in deep bite wounds and claw marks, and although they wouldn’t kill him, due to his angelic state, they were sure to hurt a lot. As Dean and Sam pulled Cas from the mass of zombies clawing at his back, the monsters managed to latch onto an invisible appendage that Sam would later realize was one of Cas’s wings. The brothers were able to pull him free, but not without a sickening crack that made Cas’s face pale as it crumpled in pain.

    Cas wanted to go back for the body, but Sam and Dean knew there was no chance in hell of that, especially with Cas barely standing.

    Cas wouldn’t be the only one to break something, however. Sam still suspects that Dean has a couple of broken ribs that haven’t fully healed yet, not that Dean will let him take a look. On top of that, Dean fell on his foot a couple of days later, when they got ambushed by ghosts, and fucked it up pretty bad. Dean insists that it’s just a sprain, but Sam thinks that Dean is also hiding a couple of broken toes, maybe even metatarsals.

    They had ended up taking a few days to lay low and heal, but that still didn’t mean there was time for proper grief. All three men were on high alert and found themselves tested to the limit as they were met with supernatural threats.

    “Is Chuck sending them to us on purpose, or do we just have the shittiest luck?” Dean had moaned, right before a ghost threw him and caused the fall that broke his foot.

    It took a day of Advil for the swelling in Dean’s foot to subside enough, and another for Cas to be capable of travel. With his grace running low from the initial fight, and not replenishing as quickly due to Chuck’s absence, Cas healed slower than usual. It was only after three days that Cas had become steady on his feet, by which point the gaping holes in his flesh, ripped out by zombies, had faded to little pink dents that looked like long-healed scars, despite the recent memory of them seared into Sam’s brain. At that point, all three Winchesters had loaded back into the Impala and hightailed it back to the Bunker, despite the fact that Dean and Cas were (and still are) hiding the full severity of their injuries from Sam.

  
  
  


    Three days, six hours, and fifteen minutes after the end of the world, they pull up to the front of the Bunker. And nothing is the same.

  
  
  


    Nobody seems to want to make the first move. Dean finally wonders aloud, “Is it even safe for us here? I mean, Chuck knows where we are.”

    To which Cas responds, “I don’t think Chuck cares anymore. Either way, he knows we can’t hide in the Bunker forever, and he’s right. Once we’ve prepared, we need to take the fight to him.”

    “And how exactly are we gonna do that?” Dean quips. “We can’t fight God, Cas!”

    Sam tries to ignore the bickering best as he can – he’s used to it anyways – and slings a bag over his good shoulder, figuring that they might need the extra weapons, even in a place literally full of them.

    Dean shoulders past Cas brusquely, which is not exactly a rare occurrence, but this time Cas lets out a gasp of pain.

    “Cas?” Dean asks, forgetting his anger.

    “It’s fine,” he responds. “You caught my wing.”

    Dean at least has the decency to look guilty as he gives a curt nod of acknowledgement. He offers Cas an arm for support as they enter the Bunker, which Cas, of course, refuses. Sam watches silently as the two men stumble down the stairs, each trying to cover up how much pain he’s really in.

    After more than a few seconds, Sam realizes he’s still standing at the top of the stairs, but he finds he can’t move as something in him finally breaks. He drops the bag to his side and manages to sit on the top step, before the throb in his throat bubbles up into a silent sob. He buries his head in his hands and lets the enormity of everything they’ve just been through fully hit him for the first time.

    “Sam, come on. No time for breaks,” Dean scolds from the bottom of the steps. He stomps back up them a bit unevenly, his last few steps slowing as he notices that Sam isn’t just taking a breather. “Sammy.” A rough hand falls on his right shoulder.

    Sam swipes his sleeve across his face in an attempt to dry it. “Yeah… yeah,” he breathes in a laughing tone, trying to cover his sorrow. “Coming.”

    “Sam?” Cas asks in concern and also joins them.

    “Guys, it’s fine,” he says as he brushes away their hands and turns his head. The rims of his nostrils are stinging from his tears. “It’s just been a lot.”

    “Yeah, no kidding,” Dean says, squeezing in to sit beside him. Cas’s eyes find the spot on the other side of Sam, but he glances back at where his broken wing must be, and seemingly decides better of it.

    “I just… first Mom, now Jack. I know we’ve dealt with a lot before, but I feel like I just can’t get past this, y’know?”

    “He was our son,” Cas comments quietly. Nobody seems to have a response to that.

    Dean laughs awkwardly. “Who ever thought that Chuck…?” He trails off, the wound too fresh to finish the sentence. Sam swipes a hand down his face and doesn’t answer.

    “I know we don’t have his body,” Cas says – and Sam feels a rush of unreasonable guilt for having to leave him behind – “But we should have some kind of memorial. To honor him.”

    Dean nods in agreement.

    “Yeah,” Sam breathes.

 

    It’s not much what they pull together, but it’s all they can manage. Mostly it’s a few photos taken in the little time they had, and since that looks too sad and sparse, they take one of Jack’s favorite t-shirts – a bright blue one with Luke Skywalker wielding a lightsaber – fold it up nicely, and display that as well. They lay out a few photos of Mary too, recognizing that they really haven’t had time to mourn her fully.

    The atmosphere is somber and defeated. Sam would say that that’s the typical feeling for any memorial or funeral, but comparing this with Mary’s death, still so recent, Sam can see how it differs. Even in their sadness over Mary, they had still found little things to celebrate. Sam had had several fond memories cross his mind that honestly made him smile, even through the pain. With Jack, he can’t put the hurt aside. The grief is so consuming that reminiscing is too much to handle.

    Cas and Dean seem to be feeling the same because they are equally quiet. Dean drinks his beer quietly and alone, no toast. Cas traces his fingers over a picture of the four of them together in Tombstone, then jerks back like he’s been burned.

    “I shoulda been more careful,” Dean says. Sam turns away, busying himself with fixing the folds of Jack’s shirt. Dean seems determined to place blame on himself, however. “First the box, then the gun… I’m a fucking idiot.”

    Sam shakes his head, and Cas murmurs, “Dean, no.”

    “Come on, Cas, I know you wanna say ‘I told you so,’ so why don’t you just say it already?” He bitterly swigs some more beer.

    “Because that’s not what I want, and it’s not your fault.”

    “That’s not what you were saying a few days ago,” Dean mutters in a dark tone.

    Cas sighs, rolling his eyes up. He regains composure and says, “Well, I was wrong. It doesn’t matter what you did, Dean. What  _ any _ of us did. This was God’s plan.” 

    Sam shakes his head. “Some plan.”

    Cas sighs, “It wouldn’t have changed anything. Chuck still would have made this happen. If you had killed Jack, it honestly would have been kinder, because at least it’d be done with  _ mercy. _ ”

    After a beat, Sam chimes in. “I’m glad you didn’t though.”

   “I am, too,” Cas assures.

    Sam and Cas share a glance; they both fully understand the unspoken: that the grief of losing Jack with the grief of losing Dean on top of it would have been too much. It’s already too much as-is.

    “The kid deserved better,” is all Dean has to say.

    “Maybe…” Cas starts, “maybe we can find a way to bring him –”

    “No,” Dean says. “Don’t you dare say ‘bring him back.’ Don’t.”

    “Not yet; we need time to heal, but –”

    “I said, ‘no,’ Cas,” Dean shouts. “This is hard enough as it is; don’t go dragging false hope into it!”

   “Please –”

   “No,” Dean says, voice back at normal volume. “I can’t, and I won’t.” He slams back the rest of his beer and leaves.

   “Dean,” Cas calls out, but Dean is gone. Cas throws an apologetic look to Sam and follows after him.

    Finally alone, Sam slides into a chair. He’s not angry at the prospect of trying to bring Jack back to life again, not like Dean, but he also doesn’t think he’ll ever have the energy. It’s a near-impossible task, and with the end of the world upon them, he doesn’t think he can muster up the courage to try. All the fight has been beaten out of him.

    The memorial is over, he realizes. Cas and Dean will fight now for a good half hour, or maybe Dean will sulk in his room, but they’re definitely not coming back here. With no shits left to give, Sam swipes Jack’s shirt from the table and holds it, the pristine folds falling away into crumpled creases as he clings onto all that’s left.

    His burning eyes fall on a photo of Mary, the most recent one before her death. Feelings of shame, doubt, and frustration well up inside him. “How the hell do we go forward from here, Mom?”

    But there are no answers to that.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends, this is a oneshot, but I do fully intent to make these weekly challenges into a series of S14 codas that work chronologically. I hope you enjoy, and please subscribe if you're interested in seeing more!
> 
> And don't forget to check out the challenge at https://spnhiatuscreations.tumblr.com/


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